


Gerard Way's Precious Little Life

by glowingslowtown



Series: Gerard Way vs. The World [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: "future authoress", "wonderfully skilled", AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Frerard, Gay, Gay Romance, Goodbye, Homo, I'm not awful though I promise, I'm trying so hard not to make this a rip off of the book, M/M, Scott Pilgrim - Freeform, Scott Pilgrim AU, Unpromised eventual completion, Yes homo, hope i didn't forget anything, i had to redo all of these because i accidentally hit the back button, i love scott pilgrim, idk about that smut though, just ask my english teacher, maybe that'll be another first? I've never done smut before rip, mhm that's right, okay lets see how this goes, so it's gon be hard, uhh okay more tags, woot my first fanfic on this website
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowingslowtown/pseuds/glowingslowtown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frerard Scott Pilgrim AU. Plot shouldn't be too hard to swallow if you haven't read or seen it. Basically, Gerard's got to defeat Frank's seven evil exes in order to win his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay so!! Basically I've read over this about 20 times now and I'm starting to feel numb every time I read a sentence so I'm just going to hold my tongue and publish it. I've grown to have OCD tendencies so the editing process is probably going to turn into an entire rewrite if I don't stop now.
> 
> This is my first work on AO3, so that's something of significance, I suppose. There are a lot of sharp cut scenes but it'd take so much longer to write out full-on transitions and this is already long enough as it is so. I'll try to split into chapters as evenly as I can.
> 
> Character guide in the end notes.

"Gerard Way is dating a _high schooler_!"

The rose-haired protagonist of our story is currently positioned in front of his box-apartment kitchen counter, his mind still plagued with post-sleep fatigue as the coffee grains streamed from the package in his hand to the dispenser. The coffee was a necessity for him to elaborate on the topic any more than he had in those glorious 5 seconds- yes, he was indeed dating a high school girl, thank you very much -, but the news was just _so big_.

Gerard had really never had any luck with romance. He had dated countless amounts of girls, including a few of his high school friends that he regularly talked to on a daily basis, but nobody fit with him. He felt like one of those puzzle pieces with the frayed corner. 

He had thought about dating guys a lot, just out of sheer isolated frustration, but every time the thought came across his mind he'd dismiss it with a  _I'll find the right person._ He still dated chicks, but at the end of the day, he didn't know what in the fuck kind of arrow Cupid had hit him with. Perhaps the arrow of  _permanent sexual frustration_ or  _failure to find a date without giving up and reading Daredevil_. Specific name, but a perfect fit. 

Gerard lived for personal attention, nonetheless. He had never gotten to live the life of a world-famous rockstar with a huge mansion and a maid, so he had to settle for being a half-the-town's-population-famous unemployed citizen with a mediocre apartment and a cocky roommate. Gerard was basically blindly stumbling through life, but asides from the excessive shopping receipts littering the living room floor with Ramen as the top buy he'd say that things were running pretty smoothly on his end.

"You what?" Pete crumpled his face in disbelief, looking at his breakfast burrito with more intensity than he had five seconds prior. "You're like, what, 28 now?"

"Twenty- _three,_ " Gerard corrected point-blank, as though that made it any more eligible for approval. Gerard was a huge fanatic for band-aids, even though most of the time the bandage was too small to fit on the sore. A failiure of an adult in a relationship with a 17 year old Catholic school girl solely due to fear of independence was a pretty big sore, but if it's the _not-actually-11-year-age-gap-only-6-years-thank-you-very-much-Pete_ that made it justifiable in his head, that's the bandage he'd slap on.

"Oh, really? Is she hot?" Ryan asked after watching Pete absently apply extra force on his burrito. There was now an uneven mixture of egg and tomato oozing from the top of the tortilla, to which he crinkled his nose.

Pete still wasn't having it. "So, you've been out of high school for like, what, 13 years-"

"I'm twenty- _three_!" Gerard had his coffee in hand now, cradling the bottom of the mug with a certain sentiment that just proved everyone's point even further that Gerard really couldn't be bothered with romance. He was dating a 17 year old girl, yet is still probably more likely to get off to the mug in his hands.

His eyebrows were furrowed slightly as he walked over to the table that everyone else was at, and he plopped down in the chair next to Pete, after gently placing his coffee onto the coaster placed on the table. Nobody really sat at this table except for Gerard in the mornings with his coffee, but he had never been seated in this exact spot before. Usually, he sat in the end chair so he could see out the window and commentate dialogue for the people outside in his head. Gerard wasn't sure why they were suddenly all sitting here today. Now he couldn't see out the window at all, which made him paranoid and caused him to sink further into the depths of the barely-used chair.

Gerard isn't even sure why any of them were here right now. Brendon was still asleep- maybe they had just let themselves in and Gerard didn't think much of them being in the kitchen. It wasn't like people in their apartment was an unusual encounter.

"23 and dating a high-school girl?" Ryan was propped on his shoulders, offering Gerard an approving nod as he inhaled the smell of the coffee in front of him. "Well for me, that's way above the line, but for your standards I suppose I should congratulate you."

Pete rubbed his temple with the hand that wasn't currently victimizing a burrito. "Okay, yeah, sure. Dating a high school gir- what does that even _mean_?"

"Yeah, have you guys even kissed yet?" Patrick asked, voice fading into silence afterwords. Gerard had to look up from his coffee before he could even appreciate the question, momentarily forgetting about Patrick being in the room. He was the type of guy that never really made an effort to make his presence known, but was always around. Like bills on the kitchen counter. Or that water around the toothbrush dispenser that no one ever bothered cleaning up whenever people brushed their teeth. Patrick was that toothpasty mouth water.

"Well," he starts, trying to milk the cow for all of its worth. In all honesty, Gerard was joking himself if he thought that he actually liked this girl romantically, but he couldn't just _say_ that. He was already having trouble this morning with creating reasonable answers with the simple fact of it being 10 in the morning. He just wasn't used to having so many questions drilled into his head. They were actually coming in steadily right now, but he could feel the wrath of future questions rising in everyone's minds. It was like he could pinpoint each and every moment in the future that he'd have to answer a question about Knives. It sent unsettling shivers down the back of his spine. "We, like, ride the bus together, and she tells me how Yearbook club goes, and talks about her friends and stuff. Y'know, _gossip-"_

"Yeah, okay. Have you even hugged the poor girl goodbye yet?" Ryan let out a low sigh, letting his gaze up on Gerard for the moment and instead focusing back on the breakfast burrito. "Pete! For fuck's sake! What did the burrito do to you?"

Pete, confused, looked at his damaged food, instantly letting go of it before realizing that letting go of things usually causes them to land on things. Specifically Gerard's floor. Technically it was Brendon's since he paid a majority of the rent, but Brendon would be the one to find it, Pete's disheveled burrito, and that'd cause Gerard to be the one to get backlash. "I dunno," he grumbled, his eyes boring into Gerard's skull for a second like this was entirely his fault. "Maybe my hand thinks it'll take after Gerard and grow up to be a 24 year old burrito who'll try to date 16 year old tacos-"

"Twenty-three, Pete! Twenty- _three_! And she's 17." Gerard sighed, stalling as he exhaled so that he could think of something to amuse Ryan with. He was so relieved to think of something that he just said it, not realizing the insignificance of it until the deed had been done. "Well, we _did_ try to hold hands once, but she got scared." and with a pointed glare to Pete, he deadpanned, "Probably thought I was gonna try and squeeze hers off and then drop it on my friend's floor."

"Huh?"

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound the door made as it shut behind Gerard was silencing, in a sort of way. The wind outside was deafening, weaving violently through the crimson strands of his hair and billowing past his ears and past his coat, which instantly ceased as soon as he let himself into the apartment. But his thoughts didn't quiet down.

Thinking, pounding, screaming.

"Just to let you know before you hear some dirty little rumor, yes, I'm dating a seventeen year-old."

Brendon glanced up from his People magazine. He was sitting in a recliner that had been here ever since he had first moved in, with his feet crossed diagonally over one of the arms. He looked back at the page just as quickly as his eyes had strayed from it. "Is he cute?"

Gerard shrugged his coat off, eyelids sagging further over his eyes as a wave of tiredness swept over him. Bus rides were tiring for him, especially after having to listen to a ten minute narration of his girlfriend's math class of horrors and then awkwardly laugh every time she paused and hope she didn't ask a question.

Being fake was so tiring.

"Ha, ha, ha." Gerard wasn't sure if that was meant to be a jab at himself or Brendon just trying to fit his gayness into every possible conversation.

Brendon just stared at the corner of a page for a moment, as though he was letting the information soak in. "So's this mean we're gonna have to stop sleeping with each other?"

Gerard emerged into the room from the hallway, gazing wearily around the room. There was only a single lamp on, yet Brendon had already soared through half of the magazine he had in hand. Gerard opened his mouth to say something about how Brendon was probably straining his eyes and that that was unhealthy, but he was quickly hushed whenever he remembered how many hours of his life were spent staring at a television screen. Damn Fall Out 3.

"Uhh," Gerard scratched his head, slightly puzzled by the question. "Do you _see_ another bed in here?"

Gerard and Brendon shared a bed. Well, more technically, it was a futon mattress. So what? It wasn't like they'd ever even think about doing anything other than plainly _sleeping._ Sharing a bed didn't mean anything. Plus Gerard had a girlfriend now, but Brendon didn't really see that as an impressive feat, anyways.

Brendon grinned, looking back down at the magazine as he sucked on the inside of his cheek. "Knew you'd never be able to turn me down. You're totally my bitch forever, man."

Gerard, too deep in the hole of sleep deprivation and mental stress, replied with a weakly-aimed thumbs up as he disappeared into the next room.

Gerard quite legitimately felt like a ghost in someone else's house. Everything that was in their apartment was either Brendon's, or a downgrade of something in this house that was Brendon's. Gerard had a coat. Brendon had a better coat. Gerard had a toothbrush. Brendon bought the toothbrush. Gerard bought the couch. Brendon threw it out on the curb the next day because it had termites.

Stupid Brendon. Stupid white-collar jobs.

~~~~~~~~~~

"So where we going? Your secret lair?"

"My secret lair is one of those 'no-girls' deals, actually."

Gerard and Knives were walking to band practice for Sex Bob-Omb, but Gerard wasn't so sure she was listening the first time he said that. Knives had gotten into a pretty heated spiel on the whole Tamara-likes-Bobby fiasco ("But I thought Derek and Tamara had a mutual liking-each-other-thing going on!") and, well, the girl talked too much for her own good.

"So where then?"

Gerard scuffed his feet against the sidewalk. His shoes made a loud noise when he did it, which just prompted him to do it even louder. Gerard wasn't sure if he was being obnoxious or just trying to focus. "Band practice. We've got a set next weekend."

Knives' eyes lit up. "Oh my gosh! For real? But you _never_ take me to your guys' practice-"

"Yeah, yeah I know. Just.." Gerard's hands clenched in his coat pockets. "Just be good, okay?"

"I'll be good, Gee."

Gerard frowned, in a sort of unsettled way. That nickname didn't sound right in her mouth. She had said it with a specific generic emphasis, like she had just bought Gerard at the convenience store and was unboxing him. He would feel objectified if he cared about Knives any more than he did. But he didn't.

They approached the house after walking for about 10 more minutes. It was mostly the place where Ryan lived, since he was the front man and got to say where they did what, but they just called it "practice." Patrick had pointed out that that was a verb and an inappropriate substitute for a place, but nobody really cared. So it was called practice.

Gerard knocked on the door, and Knives bounced excitedly on her heels next to the door frame.

"You promise to be good?" Gerard felt ridiculous saying it, but this felt like such a chore. He didn't want this to be any more scarring than it already promised to be.

"Yes, I'll be good! Like, really, really good!"

"But can I trust you?"

"I'll be _so_ good."

Ryan opened it several moments afterwords, raising his eyebrows as he saw Gerard and Knives on the other side. "What the hell are you making this poor girl say, man?" 

"Knives, this is Ryan. He's the talent, but he's got really shitty handwriting so I wouldn't ask for his signature. Can you let us in now? Please? It's freezing out here."

Ryan took a couple steps back to allow entrance, and Gerard followed up right behind him. Knives decided to tell Ryan the truth. Ryan just thought she was being a whiny ass snitch. The two of those weren't mutually exclusive, though, so his point was valid. "He made me promise to be good to you guys!"

Ryan watched from the side as Gerard took his guitar off the stand. "He could have just been kidding. Are you normally _not_ good?"

Knives looked down, shuffling inside as Ryan shut the door. "I thought I was okay.. _."_ Her eyes widened considerably, though, as she got a look at the set.

"You can just throw your jacket wherever, Knives." Gerard said helpfully.

She was too struck in awe, though, her eyes transfixed on everything around her. She saw some dude sitting behind the drums, but didn't recognize him. "Hi, sorry, what was your name?"

"I'm Pete."

Knives nodded, saying it a few times quickly under her breath, "Okay, Pete. You play the drums?"

Pete nodded, "Yeah, that's what I do." He could never sit still, after all. Pete's preferred instrument of choice was a bass, but Gerard was already playing the guitar. _Someone_ had to play the drums, otherwise it wouldn't be a band. It'd just be a group of people with an empty drum set. Pete made them a group of people with a _non_ -empty drumset. He was a big help, really.

"That's so cool!" Knives sat on the couch, and another door from the hallway opened before someone else stepped out.

"Oh, yeah. Knives, this is Patrick." 

Patrick set down on the opposite end of the couch, "Stump."

Knives beamed, "what do you play?"

Patrick shook his head. "Nothing. I just live here."

"Oh.."

"Alright, guys," Gerard said once his guitar was hooked up. "Let's start with Launchpad McQuack."

Ryan threw a glance backwards at him before looking at their two audience members. "That isn't the actual title of the song."

Pete, ultimately just wanting to start practice and skip the prior barter, slammed his drumsticks together to speed things along. "1, 2, 3, 4!"

_I, can't be sure_   
_But I think I heard you crawl through the door_   
_You, didn't say a word_   
_And I think you tried to go to bed but instead you went to the floor_   
_You've been out drinking with the other boys again_   
_Telling them we are only friends_   
_Making out and making noise_

_Oh stop pretending_   
_That this isn't really ending_   
_And I will stop resenting you_   
_When you stop resenting me_

_Oh oh oh_

_I waited up late_   
_Maybe a bit too late_   
_Until you finally came in_   
_Where do I end and where do you begin?_

_You've been out partying with guys I've never met_   
_Drinking beer and smoking cigarettes_   
_Killing brain cells and killing me_

_Oh stop pretending_   
_That this isn't really ending_   
_And I will stop resenting you_   
_When you stop resenting me_

_Why don't you stop pretending_   
_That this game is never-ending_   
_And I will stop resenting you_   
_When you stop resenting_   
_Stop resenting_   
_Stop resenting_   
_Stop resenting me_

Gerard's eyebrows knitted together as they drew to a close, "I think that was a bit fast."

"Oh, boo-hoo, pussy boy." Ryan thought it sounded amazing. Mostly because he was the lead for this song. Alongside every other song they'd ever composed.

Knives' eyes lit up, "That was amazing! Do it again!" she had the same sense of enthusiasm and eagerness as a kid who had woken up and just remembered it was their birthday. At first Gerard thought that her optimism would come off as endearing, but it was overwhelmingly degrading. ("I'm a glass half empty kinda guy," Gerard had once told Brendon after getting home from the coffee shop. "Nah," Brendon had said. "You're a this-glass-is-so-drained-it-doesn't-even-know-what-full-feels-like kinda guy." Tad exaggerated, but not untrue. )

"Alright guys, let's try that again," Ryan offered.

"Slower this time," Gerard threw in, which only earned a scoff from Ryan.

"1, 2, 3, 4! We are SEX BOB-OMB!"

~~~~~~~~~~

It was exactly 2 minutes after he had thrown himself onto his side of the futon that he heard his cellphone vibrate. It wasn't necessarily required of him to answer whoever dare call at this outrageous hour, but Gerard was getting extremely agitated by the sound it was making against the floor, and he wanted to shut it up more than anything so he just flailed his arm for a couple seconds before grabbing onto it and clumsily hitting the accept button. "The fuck do you want?"

"And good morning to you to," the voice greeted in a monotone. "Did I wake you up? It's past midnight."

Gerard let out a sigh to himself. "No, Mikey, I totally wasn't just sleeping. I've been up for _hours_ , man. Planning on starting a puzzle tonight, and I won't sleep until I finish. How's a 500 piece sound?"

Gerard could hear a faint scoff, and it was like he could hear the vibrations of Mikey's head shaking as he held the phone. "So I hear you're dating a 15 year old. Is that even legal, man? I mean, I know you've been lonely and stuff, but _th_ -"

"She's _seventeen!"_ Gerard let his head drop onto the pillow in defeat. The whole Knives situation sounded stupider and stupider by every person he told, but it was the truth, and Gerard was literally the worst liar in the world. Mikey couldn't even see him right now and would be able to sniff out anything he said that wasn't solid truth. "Who told you?"

"Brendon did. I tried calling you last night, but you were at band practice or something. Anyway, scandal!"

Gerard's eyes widened impressively for how heavy his eyelids felt. There was still a patch of the lamp light seeping in from the next room under the door, and Gerard grimaced. "That, right there, is the light of betrayal." then, into the phone, "That gossipy bitch!"

"Whatever, Brendon told me something I'd have known by now anyways, blah blah blah. My real question is, who _is_ this mysterious child?"

Gerard huffed, knowing that hesitation wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Her name's Knives. Chau. She goes.. to a Catholic school. You know, with the uniform and everything. Whole nine yards."

"She _what?_ "

Gerard just sighed, and he felt like if he started sighing any more today he'd eventually pass out.

Mikey didn't say anything at first. "Oh, god, you haven't-"

"Oh no. Oh _no._ We haven't even held hands yet. I _think_ she hugged me once."

Mikey audibly sighed after a second, seeming to finally accept the truth. "Gerard, why are you doing this?"

Gerard was getting impatient, still groggy and half pissed at Mikey for even calling this late. What was he, fucking nocturnal? He didn't want to stay up this late to dive into an in-depth analysis of his romantically inclined life choices. "Yeah, I don't know. It's.. It's a nice thing, okay? It's simple."

"It's been over a year since your last relationship, you know-"

"Yeah, yeah."

"So is this you actually moving on, or just acting insane?"

Gerard paused for a long moment. "I'll let you know, okay?"

He hung up the phone, set it down with a clatter, and fell back into the sheets.

Despite how tired he now was, Mikey had provoked thoughts much more pressing.

He couldn't sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't want to be here at all."

Brendon had every right to be saying this. For one, they were currently going to meet Gerard's seventeen year old Catholic school girlfriend. Secondly, it was fucking freezing. Thirdly, _they were currently going to meet Gerard's seventeen year old Catholic school girlfriend._

 _"_ No, it's cool. This is like in _Trainspotting."_

"Okay, first of all, in _Trainspotting_ , remember how he was freaking out and all worried? That was because he knew it was sick and wrong and _illegal_. Secondly, remember how she was coercing him into dating her?"

Gerard frowned, "What? No, this isn't like that at all."

"You just _said_ it was like that!"

"Okay, maybe I didn't watch that movie very carefully."

They turned a corner, and the building came into view, much to Brendon's dismay, and also just second-hand embarrassment. He couldn't believe this, honestly. Gerard had failed with so many girls before Brendon was pretty sure that he was either only attracted to dudes or comics. Perhaps some sort of unique combination of the two. "There is no way you're gonna make me do this with you."

Gerard rolled his eyes, trying to throw something onto the plate for Brendon. "No, dude, it's okay. This school has boys, too."

"You mean a fraction of half the world's population happens to be at _this exact place_? Man, your persuasion tactics are just on _fire_ today."

They approached the gate that opened up to the entrance of the school, and Gerard came to a stop. "Okay, let's wait here."

So they waited there.

Until they heard a bell ring, to which Brendon used his epic skills in context clues and interring, and declared, "I think that means school's out."

Gerard, out of pure boredom, was trying to line the tips of his shoes up perfectly with the crack in the sidewalk, and didn't even hear Knives until she was two inches in front of him and he could see her boots.

"Heyyy," she beamed at Gerard.

"Hey Knives, what's up? This is my cool, gay roommate. Brendon Urie."

They then shook hands, and Gerard watched the exchange.

"Hi! I'm Knives, do you want to know who in my class is gay?"

Brendon grinned. "Is he hot?"

Gerard intersected, though, already having enough of the discomfort and waving an arm in between his friend and girl friend. "Brendon, you go now. Leave. Begone."

"Aww, what? This sucks! You suck."

"I can look up a more extensive list of synonyms if the message isn't clear yet."

Knives smiled, "I promise to give you the scoop on all the cute boys next time I see you, Brendon." She now had both of her arms latched around Gerard's, and his hat was slouching from his head due to the wind.

Brendon took one of Knives' hands, looking her in the eyes with a serious stance. "You're too good for this man."

Then he was gone.

Knives squeezed Gerard's arm as they walked. "Brendon is so funny! Can we get pizza? I'm starving."

Gerard smiled uneasily, trying not to let Knives drag him down. "Funny, yeah.."

~~~~~~~~~~

Gerard had a dream that night.

He didn't know it was a dream, of course. Nobody ever does, unless you're some expert freak on lucid dreaming. That sounded scary as shit though.

For all Gerard knew, he was inexplicably stranded in the middle of a desert.

He was on his knees, and the sun was blisteringly hot. It sent heat flowing through his veins, circulating through his body, and sweat was emerging from his skin, popping up and falling away like rain on an umbrella.

The sand was grainy, it was crunchy, and Gerard's hands were submerged in it. He lifted his arms and the sand escaped through his fingertips, falling to the ground beneath them as if it was reuniting with an old friend. It stung his hands as he pressed them into the ground to lift himself up, and he had to clap them together to get rid of the remaining grains.

Gerard just sort of scratched his head for a moment, not sure what to think.

"I'm alone?" He had figured that much.

It quickly rose from acknowledgement to fear, though, and suddenly the sun felt outlandishly hotter, and the sand was much grainier and crunchier, and the cactus a few feet away looked so much more like a _cactus_.

Before just now, he knew he was in a desert.

Now, he knew that he never _wouldn't_ be in a desert. It wasn't a confirmed fact, but pretty fucking scary whenever that's the most plausible scenario.

"Oh, fuck.." he could stand up now, but he felt weak on his knees.

"I'm all by myself. I'm.-"

He stopped moving. Not in a sudden, freezing motion, like everything had just hit him like a bullet train, or anything like that. It was as if he had just stopped crawling. The white flag of defeat.

Surrender.

"I really am alone."

Then he heard it.

Something, somewhere far in the distance, was coming. He didn't even have to see it, or hear it. He could just sense it.

Dreams let that kind of stuff slide.

His panic momentarily forgotten, he stayed still. Waiting, watching.

Then he could see him.

It was just some guy on a motorcycle. Not a very relieving thing to see after thinking that you're trapped by yourself on a hot desert for eternity, but still a step up nonetheless. (Seriously. For a split second Gerard had contemplated just throwing himself at the cactus.)

But then Gerard started to focus on the person himself, and everything he'd been panicking about sort of just collapsed like a tree in the forest. Gerard was the lumberjack, but this guy was the force that slammed his ax into the tree. This stranger was the finality of his mind's chaos.

He had on these goggles that covered up a good fraction of his face, which was inconvenient, but Gerard could vaguely picture the eyes behind them. The motorcycle was moving fast, like, _really_ fast, and Gerard knew he didn't have much time. But it felt like something was slipping away. He didn't feel that panic in his chest, that fear of being stranded, the knowledge of eternal isolation.

In some odd, twisted way, the guy on the motorcycle made eternal isolation feel all right.

But then his throat unclenched after the initial surprise, and he decided to make use of it.

"Am.. I alone?"

"Oh, man, _what_ _a_ _question!_ " The guy was a good few yards away from Gerard, and the engine of his motorcycle made it challenging to hear anything, but whenever the dude spoke, Gerard could _hear_ it. The blunt sarcasm, the crisp warmth of his dry tone, the way he caressed each word, how he spit out each syllable like it was mouthwash and Gerard was a sink that he could just pour anything in to. He felt like the dude was inches from his ear, and it was eerily clear in his mind.

It was like this guy's voice was alive.

Gerard furrowed his brows. "Well, am I?" His voice was still ringing in Gerard's ears, like it was being pounded into his brain. He could almost feel the words being engraved into his skull. He just couldn't stop it. He couldn't take his eyes off the guy, either. Gerard felt like everything else was no longer part of the universe, and the motorcycle boy was the only thing left that he could acknowledge, and all of his focus was being redirected to this single person. It was rather terrifying.

Gerard didn't even have to see the guy take off his goggles to know that he just rolled his eyes. Gerard's question was legitimate, in his point of view, but he just seemed like the kind of guy that'd roll his eyes at anything. "You aren't alone, you doofus. This is just a dream you're having."

Gerard's face faltered, and he took a couple steps forward. "I'm what?"

Then he was gone, and darkness bled into Gerard's vision until it swallowed him whole. Everything was slipping away. The big black curtains were drawing the scene to a close. The prickly thorns adorning the cactus, the fineness of the sand beneath his socked feet, the sheer intensity of the scorching sun rays. The chance of Gerard ever seeing the mystery man again.

Or so he thought.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've risen from the dead! 
> 
> This did take a very long time to upload, but I've been distracted with other things. Note that in the beginning of this chapter, "Scott" is actually Other Scott from the books. I would never put Scott Pilgrim and Wallace Wells on a date. The only non-canon ship I've ever been able to stand is Kim and Ramona, and I don't think that'll ever change.
> 
> I really hope you all are doing well, and if you're trying to distract yourself from something right now or feeling anxious for whatever reason, I wish you the best and hope you keep in mind that everything is temporary.

"Hey, you want the last salmon thingy?" 

Brendon was staring intently at Gerard as he awaited an answer, his eyes flittering across Gerard's slumped figure leaning against the back of the chair he was sitting in. His eyes were hazed, and they sort of had a distant vibe to them, but Brendon knew they weren't cataracts. Only old people got those,  Brendon was sure. Pretty sure. 

Gerard didn't even look at him at first, instead absently tapping the end of his chopstick against the tabletop. His fingers were moving pretty quickly to distract him, but they got progressively clumsier, and Gerard didn't even notice until he felt the chopstick leave his fingers and skid across the ground over to a nearby customer's boot, to which he instantly looked to Brendon and said, "What? No." 

Gerard decided to leave his other remaining chopstick on the table and instead took to clasping his fingers together. 

"But I'm full," Brendon furthered, pausing in between phrases, smug grin slinking into place. "Or am I just unbearably kind?" 

"Hey, Scott," Gerard said, "How about you be my guest, and take the salmon." Gerard really couldn't even tell whether or not he was hungry. He had been in a weird funk ever since he woke up; it was like he was in high alert, but a drunk sort of high alert. His brain made him feel like he was walking through mud a foot high, but he constantly felt like he still needed to look over his shoulder every half second. It was definitely aggravating. 

Scott, Brendon's date that he had forced Gerard to tag along third-wheel on, didn't hesitate in plucking the sushi up with his two chopsticks. Gerard glanced back at the spot where his own, stranded chopstick had landed. It was still on the ground, only now the people who'd been sitting there were now gone. Gerard scowled at it, his hands closing in on each other a bit tighter. 

"Uh, hey, thanks for lunch, Brendon." Gerard said several moments later once the silence began to feel a bit too quiet.

"No problem, my dude. You holding up alright?" Brendon could tell that there was something up, but he tried to keep his concern low key. He got into weird funks all the time, there was no _real_ reason to worry. One time Gerard had stayed up for 46 hours straight spent on designing a character (he may have been on a bit of a bend) whom's special power was to cook ramen in two seconds flat, and saved lives by giving the noodles to the homeless pedestrians while shooting criminals and bank robbers with the broth in his trusty "Liquid Shooter" and sending them to the hospital with third-degree burns. The next day Brendon gave him the breakdown on what happened and Gerard barely spoke for the rest of the afternoon. Gerard was acting like that today, only a bit more fidgety. And without the whole Ramen superhero fiasco.

"I'm.. Yeah, it's all good. Just had a dream that spooked me." Gerard brought a hand through his hair, offering a gentle smile to Brendon who looked like he wanted to know more but wasn't going to ask. He didn't need to, honestly. Gerard was going to talk about it eventually. Gerard would probably be the one to say everything was fine one day, and then rise from his casket half a century later with something like "I just think it's funny how..." or "the only thing is..." He was petty like that. 

"There was... This _guy-"_ Gerard started to talk, but Scott cut him off which caused him to huff and sit back in his chair. 

"You want to sit here and talk about your dreams whenever we've got a poetry slam to be at in 4 hours? Color me unimpressed." 

Gerard sort of just stared at the guy for a moment, not sure what to point out first; the fact that poetry slams on a Thursday mid-evening was the most blunt form of hipster cliche-ness he'd ever seen, or the fact that not even prom could need four hours of prepping beforehand. But then again, Gerard never really planned anything. He was the type of guy to just let someone throw him into the sea without holding his breath first. 

"By we, I hope you mean you and Brendon, because I'm out." And with that, after a final nod to Brendon as another silent thank-you for the food, he stood up and left, dodging out of the way from the chopstick on the ground before exiting. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Gerard was walking with Knives. To the library. 

"Here, take this," Knives said, stacking another book on top of the pair Gerard was holding. 

"This feels so weird," Gerard looked around him, shifting his weight to his other foot. 

"They can't be _that_ heavy, silly," Knives keeps her back turned as she files through more of the books. 

"No, I mean, being in a library. It reminds me of grade school." 

"That must feel like a long time ago." Another book. 

"Yeah, let's not talk about that anymore." 

Knives finished up with her stacks after a few more moments, and after pushing the bookend back into place, she was ready to check out. 

Gerard turned the corner, and a split second afterwards he stopped. Knives bumped into his back, causing him to stumble a bit. 

_He_ was there. The guy in Gerard's dream. He was at a real life shelf, looking at real life books, a real life person in a real life library, and Gerard was seeing him with his own real life eyes. 

It felt like a dream to see this guy. Maybe that has partially to do with the fact that Gerard's single recollection of him was in the same dream he had had last night, but it still didn't feel normal. He had a sudden strong urge to go over and tap him on the shoulder, but he stopped himself. 

He was a bit shorter off of the motorcycle. Maybe two or three inches shorter than Gerard. He had the same jacket on - _holy shit he had the same jacket on_ \- and his hair was jet black. A bit shaggy and long, strands falling in his eyes and over his ears, but not in the bad kind of way. It was more of a put together kind of thing than someone who'd just let their barbers coupon expire and had to wait until the next paycheck. 

Knives was now beside Gerard, and suddenly they were walking again. Walking walking walking, and then the stranger was out of his sight and he felt like someone had put their hands over his eyes. He just felt lost, and slightly confused, and a bit cheated. 

"What was that?" Knives asked. "Did you know that guy?" 

"Uh, no. I don't think so. Do I?" Gerard didn't really know, so he just handed the books to Knives and let her check out. Her dad was giving her the ride back home, so he just told her he'd see her at band practice later. 

Band practice, however, didn't sail much more smoothly. 

"Hey, dude," Ryan said after their first run-through, "I'm pretty sure that that song had more than one word, and I'm pretty sure none of them were 'waffle'." 

"Yeah," Pete grinned a bit, "Maybe your _girlfriend's_  distracting you." 

"I'll be quieter!"

Gerard just shook his head a bit, trying to refocus. They were playing a gig tonight at the farmer's market, however the fuck that happened, and he'd rather not turn their show into a laughing stock for people to have excuses to throw various foods at them. Tomatoes were the customary food of hatred, but Gerard wouldn't put it past them to throw in a few pears or squash. Maybe even an eggplant. Gerard could already feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he imagined Brendon saying something like, "Hey, I needed one of these!" 

They went through the songs again, and Gerard was able to get the words right, at the least. He was an octave off for a few measures of the first couple songs, but nobody was really paying that close attention anyways. 

Their gig, thankfully, was free of any word slip-ups from Gerard. It wasn't until the very last guitar solo that Gerard saw _that_ _same_ _fucking_ _guy_ again, zooming past the foot of the stage, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Not in the bad way, like he was choking or couldn't feel his throat. He just _forgot_ _to._ There was something peculiarly enchanting about this stranger that wiped Gerard's mind slate clean. The guy didn't take his thoughts away, he left him with nothing to create them in the first place. 

After the show though, the packing up sort of forced Gerard to move and pick things up and put things away, which sort of helped. The image of the guy racing past the front of the stage was still seared into his mind, but he couldn't do anything about it. Not until later that night. 

~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm _cold!"_ Gerard stated in a huff. To the entire street, really, but directed towards Ryan. He was the one that drug him out in the first place, so Gerard decided to blame his discomfort on him. 

"Oh, get over yourself. Next time you'll remember to bring a scarf." Ryan, inexplicably, was wearing a black shirt that had mid-length sleeves, yet wasn't complaining. He wasn't even shivering. Maybe he was just trying to prove to Gerard that he wasn't a wimp, but he didn't care either way. It was still pretty fucking freezing. 

"Where are we even going, anyways?" Gerard was low key trying to change the subject, but he was also just genuinely curious. The thought hadn't crossed his mind until that moment, really. 

"We've told you like 50 times already," Brendon huffed. 

"To that party," Ryan restated. "At Z's." 

Gerard rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. Maybe alcohol and girls would finally get his mind off of that mystery stranger. 

Maybe, as Gerard soon came to find out, wasn't anywhere near as good as definitely.

First off, there _wasn't_ alcohol. Not really. Either this party was a lot bigger than he'd guessed, or they were all just _really_  passionate on getting drunk, but they had gotten there around half an hour late and already the beer was completely scooped. There were solo cups on several surfaces and just then a bottle was smashed over someone's forehead. The victim responded a few seconds later with, "No, please."

Secondly, Gerard was alone. Their group that had entered broke apart before the door even shut behind them. Gerard wasn't exactly the type of person to find fun in parties, especially sober, so he sort of just lanked around for a bit and tried to think of something to do. 

Stalk people. 

Listen in on drunken conversations.

Go to the bathroom 15 times and then try to sneak out early. 

While all of the options were very tempting, he didn't have to think very hard before his thoughts were forced to an abrupt momentary close. 

He had begun to turn the corner, because, hey, what better was there to do, but he never reached the other side. 

Something had hit him. Pretty hard, Gerard guessed, as his body then collided with the wood flooring beneath him. 

For a second, he couldn't move. Not because he was hurt, cause he wasn't, but just because he still hadn't quite registered what had happened. 

He sort of just stayed there, blinking and staring at the wall as he layed limply on his side, breaths harsh and raspy. 

Above all the chatter, despite the softness of the voice, all Gerard could hear for a split second was a very quiet yet urgent, "Shit." 

Gerard's head felt like it had suddenly turned to a sloshy bowl of oatmeal. He was confused and in shock, and maybe a tiny bit hungry. Not that he'd actually eat cold oatmeal. 

So Gerard stood up, and right after he did, he almost pushed himself back onto the floor again just out of pure shock. 

It was _that_ _guy_. He looked like someone who had just ran into someone else, but he didn't exactly look sorry, and Gerard was beginning to question whether or not this person was even real at this point. 

"You..." Gerard couldn't believe this was happening, really. Ever since the dream he'd thought of this guy as some sort of surreal supernatural being that he was forbidden to interact with. So standing here, right now, _talking_ to him was pretty strange if he said so himself.

This was the closest Gerard had ever seen him.

Gerard couldn't breathe. This guy had literally just taken his breath away. It was different then that time earlier in the day. Gerard felt like his lungs had just been ripped out from his throat and tied in a gigantic knot. 

His eyes were the first thing Gerard had noticed. They were the color of milk chocolate blended into a smooth forest green. The two colors seemed to swirl together in his irises, like moss creeping over rich soil in the middle of a warm November. He was holding a strong gaze, but it wasn't cold. It wasn't necessarily warm, either, it was just... _There_. It was a mixture between mystery and familiarity, and if Gerard weren't so pigheaded and stubborn he would have then went on to think about how attractive this person was. And all that was even happening right now was eye contact. _Eye_ _contact_. 

Gerard's mind sort of simmered down, in a way, but at the same time it felt like he had skyrocketed into some sort of zero-gravity subspace. Gerard felt like he had closed his eyes and fallen into a bouncy house, where he was blinded but kept moving, bouncing, flying, and altogether nothing was coordinating with anything. 

"Sorry," was the word that snapped Gerard back into the current interaction. It took him a second before he realized that it was Mr.Pretty Eyes that had apologized. 

"What?" Gerard had been aiming for a more insightful answer from himself, even just an answer at all, but his brain was moving extremely slowly. It was like trying to clap underwater. No matter how hard you pushed your hands towards each other, they'd end up coming together at an irritable speed. 

"I... It's okay. I'm okay. No, I mean, I'm actually _Gerard_ , that's what my name is, but I feel okay. What I meant is that you didn't hurt me. No need for apology." 

"Yeah, okay. I'm Frank." And then Frank smiled, and he was still looking at Gerard, and it just didn't feel real. Gerard could list off an entire collection of various metaphors applicable to his disbelief, but it just didn't compare. It just felt too surreal. 

"You look scared," Frank said, which only set Gerard into _more_ of a panic, because the last time he felt like this he ended up having a panic attack in an airport. He was pretty sure detachment from reality was a common side effect of those episodes, but that was the _last_ thing Gerard wanted in this moment. 

"Oh- No- I mean, I'm not scared. I just got dragged to this party by my friends and they all left me, and now I don't have a clue what to do with myself. Just conflicted, that's all." Gerard was teetering on the edge of mentioning his dream, but he decided against it. _Hey-you-were-in-my-dream-and-yelled-vicious-sarcasm-at-me-on-a-motorcycle-in-the-middle-of-a-desert_   wasn't exactly the best conversation opener. 

"So you're at a party full of hot people and loud music and you don't know what to do with yourself?" Frank sounded like he was having a moderately hard time digesting the words, but Gerard just shrugged. 

"Doesn't help that there isn't any alcohol." Gerard knew it was a strange thing, being at a party with so many available distractions yet not attaching to anything. He felt out of place, really, and it was hard explaining it to someone who was surely enjoying himself at this kind of event. 

"Oh, thank god," was the response Frank gave him, which threw Gerard a bit off guard but was quickly swept under the rug as Frank then instantly grabbed Gerard's wrist and began weaving their way through the numerous crowds of people. 

He was confused, which was starting to become a recurring theme for this night, up until Gerard saw a door and was soon on the other side of it. 

Frank let go of his wrist but kept walking, which threw Gerard off until he quickly stumbled to catch up. 

"You.. W.. We're just leaving?" Gerard asked, and whenever he exhaled he could see his puff of breath freeze in the air before it quickly faded. He wished that that could be all of his confusion right now. Just breathing it into the air, watching it become something physical, tangible, only to see it dissolve into thin air. 

"Yes, that's essentially what the intent is whenever two people exit the building of said party and begin walking in another direction." 

Gerard didn't bother asking any more questions for awhile and just focused on not tripping on his own feet, instead just silently wondering to himself where the fuck they were even going in the first place. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been awhile, but this got a not-entirely-shitty amount of hits, so I figured it was worth continuing this a few more chapters at the least.
> 
> Update on current things in my life: Kim Chi is currently the most adorable and lovable person on earth, and I've recently sold my soul to Haikyu!! (The show's title includes the exclamation points. I only use double exclamation whenever I'm talking about Tyler Joseph or my appreciation for the color yellow.) Prince is gone and I'm devastated. As the school year's coming to a close, all it really is anymore is just a daily reminder of how unashamedly done I feel with every single individual in my grade level. 
> 
> Leave a comment about something that makes you happy, and if you have any feedback on the chapter you can throw that in as well, even though this chapter is just a filler to prep for the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope that you fellow readers will take the time to let me in on your feedback, just so that I can have a better understanding of how appreciated this will really be. It's fun to write this nonetheless, but nobody wants to talk to an empty room, so. If you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to comment or contact me! I'll put more of my information up eventually, but for now, my tumblr is pennylaneboy.tumblr.com , feel free to send in messages or asks or whatever else. Bless your soul if you've made it this far, and i wish you safe travels on your journey home. 
> 
> Character guide: (please keep in mind that the AU characters won't perfectly resemble the original ones. whoever I've based off of whoever aren't all exactly alike, I know that not every character in this has a striking parallel. These are mostly for placement and inclusion than necessarily basing characters.) 
> 
> Gerard Way as Scott Pilgrim   
> Pete Wentz as Kim Pines   
> Ryan Ross as Stephen Stills   
> Patrick Stump as Young Neil (Nodregraf)   
> Knives Chau as Knives Chau   
> Brendon Urie as Wallace Wells   
> Frank Iero as Ramona Flowers


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